


Don't Sleep

by littleboxesofstars



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: (only in the last part tho), Blood, Character Death, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Horror, Vague Mentions of Suicide, all of mark's egos kill ppl, so i mean, this all seems very dark but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxesofstars/pseuds/littleboxesofstars
Summary: No one knew what caused Mark Fischbach to kill those six people. Curious, journalist Sean McLoughlin decided to arrange an interview, hoping to hear his story. He was not prepared for the tale Mark had to tell.





	1. Part One - The Author

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here’s a thing. This fic was planned and written before Who Killed Markiplier, so it’s not related to/compliant with that in the slightest. It’s written in the same interview style as the book World War Z, so that was a challenge, and inspired by/paying homage to one of my favorite fics of all time (different fandom, inactive author). The settings are inspired by horror games Mark has played over the years. Also posted to my tumblr @doseofantiseptic

**[ The subject walks into the interview room, looking up at the mirror with an expression that says he knows people are looking back at him. He also looks tired; extremely tired and worn. A dog is at his heels, a flowy golden retriever with soft eyes, its tail waving leisurely from side to side as it looks up at its master. The man sits down at the table, in the cold metal chair closest to the door he entered from, and the dog sits next to him, nudging his hand gently until he raises it to pet its head. I swallow, looking over my questions before opening the door, entering the room with him. The air is cold. ]**

_Hello. Mark Fischbach, correct? My name is Sean McLoughlin; I’m a journalist._

I figured.

**[ I turn my recorder on and set it on the table between us. Mark looks up from his dog--a therapy dog, I assume--and though I could tell he was tired even before entering, he looks so much more so up close that for a moment, I want to suggest a nap. ]**

_So, you know why I’m here then?_

Because it’s been nearly three years. An anniversary piece. You’re hoping to be the journalist that finally cracks how I did it.

_Did what, exactly?_

How I killed those six people. **[ His voice is resigned, but there's a slight bitterness too. ]**

_No. That’s not what I want. I just want to hear your story. No judgement, no disbelief. Just your version of events._

**[ Mark stares at me, stares me fully in the face. His expression is slightly pained, as though I just asked him to do something he’d much rather not. ]**

You want the story of a man that’s been locked away for two and a half years? Really?

_We don’t have to start today, if you’re not comfortable. We can just talk a little while if you’d like._

**[ Mark is still looking at me like maybe I’m the crazy one, but the resignation in his eyes is gone. Instead, I see a small pique of interest. ]**

I already know that you won’t believe me.

_You have to try me before you say something like that._

**[ He looks for a few seconds more before breaking eye contact, his gaze on his hands as he settles himself in his chair. His dog rests its head on his thigh, looking up at him imploringly until he begins to pet it again. He’s silent for a long time, his face deep in thought, looking unsure of what to say next. I almost try a lead in question, but then his mouth opens. ]**

Dreams were never something I put much importance in. I've known people who keep journals, or try look for a deeper meaning, or something like that, but it’s just brainwaves. Once you learn the science behind something, it loses its mystery. I’d had one or two nightmares that stuck with me, but they weren’t really something I needed to worry about. It was just a dream, you know? That's what you tell yourself. Just a dream. But then… This one dream started happening. And it kept happening, over and over and over.

_Tell me about it._

**[ Mark pauses again. Not for quite as long this time though, swallowing before speaking. ]**

It was night. It was always night, and I was always walking through a forest that I'd never seen before. It was incredibly dark, like even the moon had fallen out of the sky, and maybe it had because it was pouring rain, rain as cold as ice that drenched me in seconds. All I had with me was a flashlight, but thanks to the storm I could only see a few feet in front of me. I moved fast, because I didn’t want to stay in this forest and I obviously didn’t want to keep getting rained on, but I didn’t know where to go. One way had to be the way out, right? This forest couldn’t go on forever. So I started walking.

_Did you know what direction you were going?_

Direction? **[ Mark laughs a little. ]** I didn't even know where I was. I was walking along, trying to keep water out of my eyes, and then I heard footsteps. Fast footsteps, coming in my direction. I looked, trying to see someone behind me, and there was nothing there. I knew I didn't imagine it. Then hands grabbed at my shirt, twisting and pulling me back, and fuck. **[ He laughs again, a completely humorless sound. ]** It was terrifying. I just started running. I ran until my lungs burned--the cold air hurt, which should have struck me as odd, because dreams are supposed to be painless, but I didn't notice it. I ran until the forest ended.

_What was at the end of the forest?_

Well, this time… **[ He pauses for a second, thinking. ]**

_This time?_

The first time it was a school. A huge white catholic school, with a big chapel on one end and a cross over the door. It was unlocked, and I ran in and closed the door behind me. Whatever was running after me slams into the door, huge and solid, but then it’s gone. And so was my flashlight, but before I could worry about being able to see or not an overhead light down the hallway clicked on. So I followed it.

_How did you know it was a catholic school?_

The crosses, for one. Over every doorway. That statue everyone’s familiar with, Jesus dying and bloodied and nailed up. The hallways were lined with lockers, with classrooms. I’ve never been in a catholic school--I’m not very too religious myself--but it was pretty obvious.

Lights kept turning on as I went. I didn’t know if they were just on motion sensors, or what; when you’re dreaming, logistics aren’t really something you think about. It was so incredibly quiet. Everything was spotless too, like the place was brand new and I was the first person to ever set foot inside. I followed the lights into the cafeteria, and that's where the rest of them were.

_The rest of them? Who?_

If you’ve done your research, you know who. And you look like you have.

_The other victims._

**[ Mark nods, letting out a long, heavy breath. His dog nudges his hand again. ]**

There was six of them. None of them were wet from the rain like I was, and they weren't dressed normally, either; they looked almost like they were here for a costume party. There’s a Doctor, a Newscaster, a Technician, an Entertainer, a Cowboy, and an Author. They looked up at me all at once when I walked in, and god, it unsettled me.

_Was there something wrong with them?_

All of them had my face. All of them.

_But the victims--_

I know. But in the dream, for some reason, all six of them looked like me. The cafeteria door slammed closed behind me, and Author said that he supposed that meant we were all here. Then from somewhere--it wasn't from the overhead system or anything--this deep voice spoke. It was so deep I could feel the vibrations of it through the tiled floors. It told us, all of us, that someone was going to die. Really though, it meant all of us. Everyone started panicking a little, muttering to themselves and each other, obviously scared. I was too.

_But you’re still alive?_

**[ Mark ignores me. ]** If you die in a dream, you die in real life. You’ve heard that, haven’t you? If you die in a dream, you die for real. And so far…

**[ He falls silent. He’s silent for nearly two minutes, petting his therapy dog, who swishes its tail against the ground when he looks down at it. I don’t want to press him to speak, so I wait. ]**

Nobody wanted to sit around in the cafeteria waiting for death, so we decided to look for a way out. It didn’t sound like it was raining anymore, and while I wasn’t excited about going back out into the woods with whatever had chased me, at least now I wasn’t alone. Two different hallways branched off from the cafeteria, so we split into two groups. I was with the Author and the Entertainer. The Entertainer was a weird one. He had a mustache and suspenders, and he spoke with something that I guess was a lisp. He made me uneasy from the beginning, but I walked with them anyway.

_Where did you go?_

We just followed hallways, looking for open doors or an exit sign. Most of the doors were locked, and those that weren’t were just dead-end classrooms. The Entertainer kept going on about wanting a weapon. He talked about self-defense, but… **[ Mark shrugs. ]** We were in a school. I don’t know what he expected.

Eventually, we started hearing something. Yelling, and the voices yelling all sounded like mine, so I knew it had to be the others. The Author wanted to help them, but the Entertainer said that it was better them than us. As it turned out though, the doors along their path had been locked as well, and we ended up running into each other in a hallway that looped around. The Cowboy was in the lead and he screamed at us to run, so we did.

_What was chasing them?_

I didn’t know at first. I didn’t want to look back, like all the idiots in horror movies, and trip over my own feet. I just ran. The blue lockers that lined the hallways started bursting open as we passed, and thick strips of white silk shot out at us. One of the silk pieces wrapped around my arm, and it squeezed so tightly I thought my forearm was going to break. I managed to rip it off, and when I looked down at my arm it was already bruising. I kept away from them after that, but some of the others didn’t. The Newscaster got a bunch of them on his arms, and around his middle; he started crying while we ran.

I’m a pretty fit guy, but even with the adrenaline I was about at my limit by the time we finally made it to the gym. The Doctor and the Technician held the double doors closed, and I helped the Newscaster get the white ribbons off. He didn’t stop crying once I was finished, though he did get quieter. The Technician told him to shut up.

The Author was looking around, trying to find us an exit from the gym, when there was a bang on the double doors. The Doctor and the Technician didn’t stand a chance; both of the doors were blasted off their hinges, and whatever in hell's name it was that wanted us dead came in. She had to bend down to fit under the door.

_She?_

**[ Mark sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. ]**

Yeah. She, it, whatever the fuck that thing was. It doesn't matter. This creature must have been nine, ten feet tall, incredibly long and thin and completely covered in a cloak. It started off black at the bottom, then grey, fading all the way up to a bone white from her waist to the top of her head. Her legs were too long, her arms were too long, her neck was too long… She stopped, screeching when came in, and she didn't have eyes, what I could only assume was skin pulled so tightly over her face that it looked painful. She didn't have lips, her teeth bared and visible.

**[ Mark's voice grows increasingly strained and rough. He swallows, his gaze going back to his hands. ]**

When she screamed again, she started following the echos through the gym with her head like some kind of echolocation. The sound was so shrill my ears were ringing, and her head turned to face the Author, the only one of us that wasn't behind her after she'd burst through the door. **[** **His voice cracks, and he stops again. ]** He didn't stand a chance.

_She killed him?_

Her fingers were long, just like everything else, extending out into sharp black points, and she ran him through with them. One finger through each eye. She kept screaming, lifting him up, and even though all the noise I could hear this deep, heavy laughter. It was the man that had spoken before. I could still hear it when I opened my eyes.

_You woke up?_

I felt like I'd just run a mile. I was sweating, and I felt sick. I wanted to write it off as a bizarre, fucked up nightmare. I almost did.

_What stopped you?_

I still had the bruise. It was blue and purple and wrapped all around my forearm. **[ He traces the skin he meant with his finger, as though he could still feel it. His lips fall into a heavyset line. ]** I wanted a distraction, so I turned the television on. They were talking about a murder.

_The first victim._

**[ Mark nodded.** ] The first victim. He was wrapped up tightly in those white silken ribbons, but not like a mummy. His body bound in strips. All of the ribbons were pristine except for the one around his eyes; that one was stained red. I knew he was the Author from my dream, but he didn't have my face anymore. He didn't look anything like me; he wasn't even Asian American. He was Latino.

**[ Mark shakes his head, falling silent. An orderly enters the room behind him, telling me in a soft voice that our time is up. There's a woman standing behind her, dressed in the same clothes, holding a tray of food and pills. ]**

_Would it be okay if I came back tomorrow?_

Please. **[ Mark looks slightly desperate. ]** There's so much more to tell you.


	2. Part Two - The Cowboy

**[ Mark is sitting on the floor today, his dog’s entire upper body in his lap. He doesn't make to get up when I enter so I don't ask him to, setting up my notepad and turning my recorder on. ]**

_ Could you tell me about your dog?  _

Her?  **[ He points at the Golden Retriever, and she wags her tail as though she knows she's being talked about. ]** I've barely had her a year, but I'm glad I do. I couldn't do any of this without her.

_ She's a therapy dog? _

**[ Mark nods.** ] She's the only damn thing keeping me alive. Or sane. She's all I have left.  **[ The dog rolls in his lap, her tail wagging, pawing at him like she's trying to hold his hand. It's the first time he smiles. ]**

_ What about friends? Family? _

I'm not allowed to talk to them now, being a danger to myself and others, and all of that. But before all of this, I owed each one of my friends at least a little money. Or a lot. My parents were disappointed of me for dropping out of college.  **[ He laughs. ]** I could have been an engineer. 

_ What happened? _

I don't want to talk about that.  **[ His tone is clipped, and he finally looks up at me. ]** That isn't what this interview is about. Where did I leave off last time?

_ The Author-- _

Right, right right. The Author. **[ He's speaking quickly, as though trying to distract himself. ]** The Author's death. The Author was killed by him.

_ Him? You said the monster was a she last time. _

Sure, he was stabbed by that creature. But the real killer, the real monster is whoever that voice belongs to. The man that told us we were going to die in the beginning. The man I heard laughing as I was waking up. I don't know who he is, but... He's the puppet master behind all of this. I know it. **[ He's stopped petting his dog, his fists clenching. He shakes his head a little, getting up from the floor and sitting in his chair across the table, his dog sitting patiently next to him. ]** But right now, I need to tell you about the next dream. It started off the same. It always does.

_ Walking through a forest? _

Walking through a forest in the rain. **[ Mark purses his lips.** **]** I still had my flashlight, the rain was still freezing. Nighttime. This time though, I heard two sets of footsteps behind me instead of one. There were four hands grabbing at my back. I ran for the edge of the woods, and it didn’t take as long this time to get out of the trees this time. But I didn’t find the school that was in my first dream. This time it was a restaurant.

_ A restaurant? _

A fancy, five star restaurant, at the edge of a forest, surrounded by nothing but trees. It was very chic, very glamorous, with a crisp sign in front that looked like it was written in French, double doors, and high windows with visible chandeliers inside. It looked ridiculous, it was so out of place. But whatever was behind me was going to kill me, so I didn't question it and just ran in. Two thumps against the door. They didn't try to break the door down. 

The place seemed expensive, the type of place that you can tell is overpriced just by looking at it. The chandeliers were glass and looked bigger from the inside, hung all over the ceiling, but the lighting was still that dim yellow color, and if I wasn’t scared out of my wits I would have felt underdressed. String music was playing from somewhere, almost soft enough to barely register as background noise. The only way I even heard it was because instead of any talking, or eating, it was silent. 

Everyone was sitting around at the front area as though waiting to be seated; the Doctor, the Cowboy, the Entertainer, the Newscaster, and the Technician. Even the Author was there, but I didn't question it--in a dream, everything makes sense. I didn't realize yet that any of this was familiar; I didn't know I was dreaming. They greeted me, and when they saw me there was a collective decision to start walking through the restaurant. I stepped on the main floor, and stopped in my tracks.

_ Why? _

**[ Mark shivers, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. It's evident that whatever was in the restaurant scared him, maybe even moreso than witnessing death the night before. ]**

The restaurant was so full of tables that it was difficult to find room to walk, and every single seat was filled.

_ Other people?  _

No. Mannequins.  **[ He shivers again, like something had just crawled up his spine. ]** And I know how stupid it sounds, but those fuckers creep me out. They must have been robotic in some way too, because each set of eyes was trained on us, their heads following us around the room as we moved. There was something wrong about the eyes; they looked human. Families, couples, all of them in dresses and suits and jewelry. If I hadn't been moving with a group, I don't know if I would have been able to keep moving at all. I even remember thinking how much this felt like a nightmare. But I hadn't really realized it yet. 

_ When did you? _

When did I realize I was dreaming? Well, we'd made it about halfway through the dining hall when one of those damn things--it was a woman, her dress white and long, and she had on all these diamonds, and pearls--stood up. Her arm extended and shot in the middle of the group, her hand closing around the Author’s throat. She dragged him towards her, and crushed his spinal cord and trachea in her hand. We all could hear it. **[ Mark lets out a long breath, putting his head in his hands for a moment.** **]** He gasped on the floor for way too long, but there was nothing we could do. He was dead. 

I wasn't as surprised as I should have been. I wasn't as shocked. It's not like I wasn't freaked out--I'd seen a man die at my feet--but it wasn't as strong of a reaction as I knew I should have to something like that. I realized I'd seen this man die before.

_ That's when you knew you were in a dream. _

**[ Mark nodded grimly.** **]** And you know how, once you figure out that you're dreaming, you can control how the dream plays out? Or at least wake yourself up? **[ He gave a dry laugh. ]** I thought maybe I could do that. I didn't know yet that this fucking hellscape wasn't of my own making.

All I wanted was for us to get out of there, so I willed us to find a door. We did, the Newscaster spotting one at the end of the dining hall and beginning to run. The Cowboy was the last one through, closing it behind him.

It wasn't a door to the outside like I'd wanted, but a door to the kitchens. It was a relatively small space, considering the size of the dining hall behind us. Everything still looked expensive though, polished and stainless steel, with an entire wall of wine glasses to our right. The lighting gave off the same yellow glow as the chandeliers in the dining hall had.

Now we didn't know what to do. The six of us just stared around at each other in disbelief for a moment, the Doctor opening his mouth as though to speak when that voice was back, telling us that we were going to die.

_ It was the same voice? _

**[ Mark nods. ]** Same voice. So deep the building shook like it was about to come down. I remembered it from the past dream, but it didn't scare me any less. Everyone else reacted more or less the same as they had before, and I got the feeling that this was new again for them. The Newscaster began whimpering. If anyone else remembered seeing the Author die, they didn't say so. 

The Technician, the Entertainer, the Doctor, and the Cowboy began arguing about what to do while I stood there, trying to pinch myself, trying to get myself to wake up. The Cowboy had just finished saying we should get the fuck out of here when this mechanical whirring sound came from behind me. The kitchen wasn't empty, like we'd thought it was; a figure was standing in the corner. 

**[ Mark paused again, and it took me leading with a question to pull him from his thoughts and continue his story. ]**

_ Another mannequin? _

Not exactly. I… Damn, you almost made me say I wish it had been. No, it was a chef. The cook in the kitchen, you know. He wasn't human though, he was doubtlessly a robot and everything was glossy plastic, from his face to his gaudy white chef's outfit. He was short too, the height of maybe a nine or ten year old kid. Our voices must have alerted him to our presence, so to speak, because he had been standing at the counter on the opposite wall. When I turned to look, his head had swiveled completely around so that it was on his shoulders backwards. Everything was plastic or metal except for his eyes and his teeth. His eyes were blue and extremely bloodshot and his teeth were yellowing bone, but they were both human. 

This thing… It was the first--it was the only thing--that spoke to us. And it spoke to us in English. His voice was all high and nasally and honestly it sounded like a cartoon villain, but it was still unnerving to hear. He told us he wanted our flesh. That he could get some good money for it, because some of us were premium grade. Then his upper body turned to face us too, one butcher knife in each hand, and he lunged. 

The Entertainer… That goddamn idiot, he ran straight at the chef. I guess I'm an idiot too, because I followed. I was trying to stop him, but I wasn't fast enough. I just didn't want anyone else to die. To his credit though, the Entertainer did manage to grab a steak knife from a nearby counter on his way and landed a hit on the chef's chest, but the blade just bounced off whatever the plastic shell was made of. The blow didn't do anything. Then the chef struck the Entertainer in the chest, and hit him really hard because he flew off his feet and hit me, both of us crashing into the wall of wine glasses behind us. Broken glass went everywhere. 

**[ He extends his arms to me, showing off the tiny white scars that littered his arms and hands. ]**

The Newscaster and the Doctor ran over to us, and the Technician and the Cowboy were… Distracted. I didn't see it happen, but chef jumped on the Cowboy’s back and knocked him to the floor. 

The Cowboy hit hard, face first. I think it was his nose that broke; there was so much blood that it was hard to see where it was coming from. He managed to pull himself up to his knees but the chef just knocked him onto his back and climbed up to sit on his chest. The Technician didn't move to help him, and to be fair I can't say with full confidence that I would have had the courage to help either. Not with the way the chef's arms were swinging, like they were on circular hinges, the knives moving like saw blades. 

Then the chef yelled something--it had to do with a price for meat, I don't remember, it wasn't what I was focused on--and then one of the knives came down on the Cowboy's neck. It was moving so fast that it went straight through; I heard it crack the tile floor below.  **[ Like it had the last time he'd recounted a death, Mark's voice had gone quiet and coarse. ]**

_ Then the dream ended? You woke up? _

Yeah. I had to run to my bathroom, and I dry heaved for a solid twenty minutes. I felt like shit, sweating and shaking all over. I knew it would be best for me to take a shower, that it would probably make me feel better, but I didn't want to be left with my thoughts for that long. I just washed my face instead and changed my clothes. I'd barely pulled my pants on when there was a knock on my door. 

_ Who was it? _

The police. And they had a warrant for my arrest. I asked what this was about but they just told me not to play dumb, read me my rights, and shoved me into the back of a car. They brought a ton of officers to take me in, and everyone seemed on edge. It didn't seem strange at the time, but looking back on it, it was as though they'd expected me to try and make a run for it, or… Or attack them, or something. And for what they were changing me with, I understand their apprehension.

_ What was it?  _

It wasn't until I was sat down in a room for questioning that I found out the Cowboy had died.

_ The second victim. They charged you for his murder?  _

They showed me a picture, and asked me if I knew him. I didn’t; he was an ordinary looking white man about my age. He did reenactments for a living, westerns and things like that, which was how I put the pieces together. Then they told me he’d been found dead, and showed me a picture of his body. I nearly threw up again.

He’d been eaten, almost completely, even the flesh on his palms and the muscles in his cheeks gone. And I was a suspect, because they’d found traces of my saliva on his bones, and… And one of my teeth was stuck in his thigh.  **[ Mark’s face twisted. ]**

_ One of your teeth? _

One from back up here somewhere.  **[ He points to his left upper jaw. ]** I just laughed, because it was impossible. I wasn’t missing any teeth. And I told them so, but they still did a dental impression on me and made me wait. I gave them my alibi--I’d been playing a game online with some friends at their estimated time of death. They were so frustrated when they let me go.

_ They let you go? _

They had to. Regardless of what the DNA said, the tooth wasn’t missing from my head, and it wasn't a fake. Neither of them were. And besides that, time I was vouched for wasn’t enough for me to have killed and eaten anyone, especially since they didn’t find any leftovers in my fridge. 

**[ The words were said like a joke, but it was evident that even Mark himself didn’t find them very funny. Nurses enter the room as they had yesterday, signaling the end of the interview. It's a male nurse this time with the tray of food and cup of pills, but in front of him is the same female nurse, her voice soft but her hand firm. Mark's dog pads over and sniffs me as he wordlessly gets to his feet, following after her master, tail swishing as they leave the room. ]**


	3. Part Three - The Newscaster

My therapist is glad you keep coming.

**[ Mark is seated before I walk in, his arms crossed on the tabletop. His dog is lying on the floor, and looks up at me when I close the door behind myself. I quickly sit down to set up my notes and my recorder. ]**

_ Yeah? _

Yeah.  **[ Mark shrugs. ]** He thinks it's good that I'm able to talk about my experience with an unbiased third party. Then again, he also thinks I'm crazy.  **[ He looks at me seriously. ]** Do you think I'm crazy?

**[ He stares at me until I answer, his gaze unwavering, searching my face. ]**

_ No. _

...no?  **[ He leans back in his chair. His dog gets up, all the way up on her hind legs, resting her front paws on his lap so she can nuzzle her head under his jaw. ]** Really? This story doesn't sound completely insane to you?

_ Well maybe, but you yourself, you're not… You don't seem deranged, or something.  _

I don't? **[** **He sounds genuinely surprised, laughing a little. ]** Sometimes even I think I've started losing my mind. The last place was the restaurant, right? 

_ Yes, you left the police station.  _

Okay. Goddamn. Okay.  **[ Mark lets out a long breath. ]** I didn't know what was happening to me, and I knew how ludicrous it sounded, so I didn't want to tell the police about the dreams yet; I would just be disregarded. I felt like I might be called down to the station again, so I started marking everything I did with some kind of evidence. Talking to people when I left or returned to my apartment, taking pictures of where I was when I went out, because my phone would timestamp the photos. It felt almost guilty, like I was trying to cover my tracks or something, but it was all because I wanted to show I was innocent. 

I tried not to sleep for a few days. I stayed up all night, took half-hour long naps when I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. It was terrible, and I only managed it for four days before I accidentally passed out on the couch in my living room. And there I was again, back in the godforsaken forest. 

I immediately recognized where I was, and that I was in the dream. I don't know how, but this time I could tell I was dreaming, so I resolved that I was going to change it. I wasn't going to run. If I didn't make it to wherever the main part of the dream was going to happen, maybe nobody else would die. But damn, as soon as I felt those hands grabbing at me I couldn't just stand still. I bolted.

At first I thought I could just run them in circles and get away, but they were too fast. They were too close for me to try to lose them and hide somewhere. They were the kind of close that if I slowed for even a second, they'd be on me. It got to the point where I couldn't keep running anymore; I needed to find somewhere to barricade myself, or they were going to get me.

_ What are they? _

I still don't know.  **[ Mark shakes his head. ]** I have tried looking behind me a few times, but with all the darkness and the rain, hands were the only thing I could ever make out, and I wasn't going to stop and get a closer look. My legs were about to give out before I finally made it to a clearing in the woods.

_ You were still in the forest? _

Yeah. I'm not sure if it was my determination to not find an actual building or if this was where I was supposed to be, but there was a big open space in the trees. The rain stopped instantly, and there was no sound of wind, or bugs, or anything. The silence was absolute. As usual, everyone was already there.

_ Who is everyone this time? _

The Technician, the Doctor, the Newscaster, and the Entertainer. The Author and the Cowboy were missing, but I think that was because I already knew I was dreaming, and I already knew they were dead. They greeted me and asked me if I was okay, because I was still trying to catch my breath. My legs were aching. I asked them if they knew we were in a dream. They looked at me like I was crazy.

_ They didn't know they were dreaming? _

I don’t even know if they’re real; I don't know if the people dying and the people I see in my dreams are the same. They correspond to people in the real world, sure, but I didn't know if the ones I saw that looked like me were just part of my imagination or not. Either way, I tried to talk some sense into them. I asked them how they got here, and all of them said they crashed their cars. All four of them crashed, and were looking for help. The Entertainer said that someone had jumped on his windshield and caused him to drive into a ditch. The Newscaster's windshield wipers had malfunctioned in the rain and he'd hit a tree. The Doctor said he’d been having engine trouble for a couple of weeks, and his truck finally stalled out. He even knew where it was, and the Technician offered to take a look at it. Maybe we could use it to drive out of here. We were about to go ahead when we heard a huge, crashing boom. At first I thought that maybe a tree had fallen somewhere in the distance. Then there was a roar.

_ What was it? _

Something huge. I don’t know. We couldn’t see it; it was too far away. We just heard it. Then as always, the voice told us that we were going to die. This was the third time I’d heard it, so it wasn’t unexpected, but the others started looking scared. Another boom went off, and it definitely sounded closer than the first, so the Newscaster asked if we could hurry up and go to the Doctor’s car now. That sliver of hope--that small chance that maybe we could get in it and drive away.  **[ Mark stops abruptly, covering his face with his hands. His voice is muffled. ]** Stupid. 

_ We can take a moment, if you’d like. _

**[ Mark rubs his face, shaking his head. He looks strained. ]** No… I need to get through this. I don’t have much time.

_ Time? _

**[ He ignores me. ]**

While we were walking, the Newscaster came up to me. He asked me if this really was a dream, and I told him yes. He looked disbelieving, so wasn't a surprise when he asked me to pinch him. When I did, I barely touched him--  **[ He demonstrated on his own arm, only putting enough pressure on his skin to leave faint nail marks behind. ]** \--but he looked at me like I’d punched him or something, cursing and swiping his arm back. You’re not supposed to feel pain in dreams, he said, so needless to say I didn’t convince him.

After about twenty minutes, the Doctor admitted that he didn’t know where his truck was, because we should have gotten to it by now. But we didn’t have anything else to do, so we just kept going in the direction his truck was supposed to be. It felt like we walked forever. The dream should have ended. The sun should have risen. The booming noises were still behind us, and still far away, but they were getting closer.

_ What were they? _

For the longest time, I thought they were explosions of some kind. That would have been nice. They were really scaring the Newscaster. The longer we went without finding the truck, the more anxious he got. He started whimpering, saying things like ‘we’re never leaving’, and ‘I don't want to die’. It was unnerving. I really wished he would shut up, but I didn’t want to further upset him. The Technician was finally the one that snapped at him. He yelled, and the Newscaster was about to yell back when there was another boom. It was so close that the trees twenty feet behind us were crushed and fell to the ground.

_ Crushed? By what? _

Something with feet big enough to crush trees, I guess. I didn’t ever see the whole thing. It was just a black, solid mass, and that combined with the darkness of the night and the canopy of trees covering the moon, it was near impossible to see much of anything. The Newscaster must have seen it though, because god, the look on his face…  **[ Mark shook his head. ]** I know it’s stupid or self-centered, because in the dream he looks like me, but that’s what made it stick with me. It was like I saw my own mortality; he had tears in his eyes, and he looked so terrified. We all ran. The Technician suggested that we should hide instead, and we were about to all duck behind trees when we saw the Doctor’s truck, fifty feet in front of us.

_ It was real? _

I know, I was surprised too. We all hid behind it, and the Doctor handed the Technician his keys. He was about to go around, talking about looking under the hood, when there was a roar. It was angry, and deafening, and I could just feel how big this monster was because the vibrations from the sound felt like they ripped through the earth. It sounded like death itself. Needless to say, the Technician didn’t move.

The monster was on us at that point. It was walking around the car, bellowing and stamping on huge, trunk-like legs. I don’t know if the thing was blind or what, because we weren’t hiding under the car. It couldn't see us as long as we weren't moving. And then the Newscaster started babbling again.

_ Could the monster hear him? _

I don't think so; it was too far away. But I could hear him, and it was more about how we were going to die. That it was going to find us, all of that. I tried not to pay much attention to it, until he started talking about making a break for it, running into the trees, and I…  **[ Mark stopped and his voice sounded thick, like he was fighting down a lump in his throat. ]** I killed him.

_ What? What do you mean? _

He would have run fast enough if I’d just let him go, but I thought he was being crazy. He started running away from the truck, and I grabbed his shoulder. It threw him off balance, and he fell right at the monster's feet. I hoped the thing hadn't noticed, but a thundering shriek made it obvious that it had.

The hand that reached down and grabbed him was almost human-looking, but too spindly and too pale. The Newscaster screamed as he was carried up, but then it was like he disappeared into the blackness; the moonlight didn't make it through the trees well enough to see all the way up. There was this noise, and his screaming stopped. I expected that to be it. I thought it was time to wake up. Then something thudded down on the ground next to the truck. 

_ He wasn't dead?  _

Apparently. Somehow. I didn't have time to see what had fallen either, because the Technician spun me around and grabbed the back of my neck, forcing my head down so all I could see was the grass below me. I asked him what he was doing, and he asked me if I'd seen what fell. I told him no, and he seemed relieved. Whatever it was, he was trying to protect me from seeing it. I heard the Newscaster crying nearby and I assumed that he'd been dropped or something, and broken some limbs. I didn't know what happened. I didn't know why nobody was trying to help him.

**[ Mark stopped for a moment, his dog again getting up on her hind legs to nuzzle under Mark's chin with her head. ]**

He'd been torn in half. And judging by the closeness of the cries, his top half had fallen next to us. 

**[ I swallowed. Mark was silent, and finally I lead with another question. ]**

_ So... Then you woke up? _

Eventually. The dream doesn't end until someone dies… The monster had us trapped, so we had to wait and listen until the Newscaster had finished bleeding out. It felt like it took forever, but realistically it was probably only a couple of minutes. When I woke up, the cops were knocking on my door. They weren't there to arrest me, they assured me of that, but they asked for my cooperation so I went with them. I knew it was about the Newscaster, and… I don't know. I felt guilty. 

They showed me a picture of him first, of what he looked like, and like before they asked me if I knew him. It was like whoever was doing all this was trying to match the real-life victims to me, because they kept getting closer to how I actually look. This guy was Asian; he was Chinese, and he was incredibly young, something like early twenties at most. He wasn’t even an actual newscaster, really, he just had an internship at a broadcasting station. 

I begged the investigator not to show me any more photographs; the Technician had protected me from seeing him in the dream, so I definitely didn't want to see him now, now that it was real. But I did ask how he died. The investigator told me he'd been ripped in half, but that… That he'd been stretched out first. That he was nearly nine feet long when they'd found him. Then she said I wasn't being accused, despite finding physical evidence from me on the body. They were classifying it as a motor vehicle accident, because while that didn't make any sense, at least it was something to tell the family. I couldn't tell how true that was. I knew I was still a suspect.

_ What was the physical evidence? _

A fingernail.  **[ Mark holds up his middle finger, the one on his right hand. ]** The entire nail had come off, embedded into his forearm. There were also three long gashes there; one for every finger I'd used to pinch the Newscaster in the dream. But I swear I barely touched him. And then I knew the police were desperate, because the investigator asked me if I knew anything, or had anything helpful for them.

_ Did you tell them about the dreams? _

Sort of. I kept it vague, and I tried not to sound too serious because as the investigator kept reminding me as I talked, it was just a dream after all. Like she was trying to reassure me, or dismiss me. She did agree that it was uncanny though, that I knew the professions of the victims, things like that. She asked me if I knew who was going to die next, but I didn’t. I never knew until it happened. I did tell her who was left though, and then was free to go. I turned on the TV when I got home, and the Newscaster’s family was crying on the news. That was the first time it really hit me that these were real people. God, I felt so guilty. It sucks.  **[ He falls silent, falls silent for a long time before laughing a little. ]** A fucking understatement.

**[ His dog starts attempting to clamber up into his lap, the chair too small for the both of them. She starts licking any part of his skin she can reach, her tail hitting against the leg of the table. Mark pets her head, giving her a weary sort of smile. ]**

She wants to comfort me; she’s going to keep at this until she can get in my lap and hold my hand, so I'd better go. You’re coming tomorrow, right?

_ That’s the plan. _

Good. Is there any chance you could bring me one of these?  **[ He fends off his dog’s affections long enough to point to the recorder between us on the table. ]**

_ Sure. Why? _

I think I’m going to need one. 


	4. Part Four - The Technician

**[ The subject is pacing the length of the room, murmuring distractedly to himself as he moves. He doesn't notice as I walk in and sit down; he doesn't look up until I speak. His therapy dog isn’t with him this time. ]**

_ Where is your dog? _

Chica?  **[ He looks around for a moment as though he'd lost her, or forgotten he was alone. ]** Oh. Vet appointment.

_ Did something happen? Is she hurt? _

Oh, no. Just standard things, the yearly exam and shots and stuff.  **[ He looks much less casual than he sounds, his shoulders slightly hunched, the speed of his speech and his movements suggesting that there’s a lot of nervous energy he’s trying to contain. ]** She's fine. She’s fine.

_ Are you okay? _

What?  

**[ He's painfully distracted, and it's obvious he didn't hear my question. But the answer is apparent, so I don't ask it again. ]**

... _ nothing. I brought you the recorder. _

**[ Mark snatches up the recorder as soon as I hold it out, turning it over in his hand. ]**

Good. Thank you.  **[ Holding the device seems to calm him a little, finally stilling and sitting down. ]**

_ What did you need it for? You said you needed one. _

I’ve started having dreams again. I’m taking medications that are supposed to knock me out, and it’s worked for the past two years, but now… I don’t know why it’s happening. I keep showing up in the forest, at night, in the rain. Sometimes I have to run, but I wake up before anything happens. I can’t let the dream continue.

_ Why? _

Why?  **[ His laugh is harsh and humorless. ]** Because once they start, once I get to where I'm supposed to be, I don’t wake up until someone dies. And I’m the last one left. If I dream, I’ll die.  **[ His voice goes soft. ]** I don’t want to die. 

_ Would you like to skip the interview for today? _

No.  **[ He answers quickly, loudly, shaking his head and sitting up straight. ]** No, I need to do this.  **[ He falls into thought. ]**

_ The Newscaster.  _

Right, right. Right. Again, the beginning of the dream was the same. I didn’t try anything this time, to keep the dream from starting; I was already there. This time, when I ran, I came to an old style farmhouse and went inside immediately. Four bodies hit against the old wooden door, but none of them tried to come in. The Technician, the Doctor, and the Entertainer were all there, in the front room.

_ Did you know you were dreaming this time? _

Yeah.  **[ He sounds resigned. ]** I even tried to tell them, but again none of them believed me. The only one that didn't completely write me off was the Entertainer, but I think he thought I was just touched in the head or something. I guess that would make the two of us kindred spirits.  **[ Mark laughs, shaking his head a little. ]** That fucking guy.

As if on cue the voice was there, saying--have I ever actually told you what he says each time?

_ No. _

He sounds so amused the entire time. He says… Hello.  **[ His voice drops, incredibly deep and gracious as he does the imitation. ]** I cannot tell you not to fear, but you have brought this upon yourself. And because of you, someone is going to die.

_ Who is he addressing? _

I don’t know. I always thought that maybe it’s me. I’ve never seen him, but I wonder if he has my face too, like the others. I feel like he does.  **[ Mark shivers slightly. ]** I feel like he’s right. That this is my fault. 

_ You were asleep, there’s no way you could have possibly-- _

But I killed them, didn’t they? They died for me.

_ What do you mean? _

**[ He’s silent for a long while, his face ragged and worn. Regardless of how true his story really is, it's evident that it has taken an extreme toll on him. ]**

I just need to talk. I just need to tell you. 

_ By all means.  _

**[ He glances around the room again, his hand falling to his side subconsciously, replacing it on the table when he realizes his dog isn’t there. He swallows hard. ]**

When the voice was done, we heard growling from somewhere down a hallway to the left. It was definitely an animal, and the Doctor stood up to flip the hall lightswitch so we could see. Then we heard it running down the hall at us, snarling, loud because the floors were old and wooden and rickety. When it came into the light, everyone was frozen for a moment. It was a dog, but I couldn’t tell you what kind. Its body was rotting off its bones, but the remaining fur was black. It looked the way I’d always imagined a hellhound, and it definitely wanted us dead, crouching and growling with its teeth bared. So we ran.

I didn’t expect us to get away from it, to be honest. I expected some kind of mauling, considering the nights I’d been through so far. But it was easy to escape to a room--the house had so many of them--and lock the door. The dog continued to growl, bark, and tried to claw its way in, so the Doctor stood in front of the door for us and held it closed.

The room we ran into was empty of everything except a small table in the center, and on it were a pack of playing cards, a sheet of paper, and a bomb that was already counting down. I've never seen a real bomb before, only in movies, and that's probably why this one looked like it was straight from a B-roll action flick, with the wires and the timer and the explosives attached. There were a little less than three minutes left on the timer when I looked at it. There was a combination lock on the door on the opposite end of the room which, considering the dog on our end, made that door our only way out. 

_ What did the paper say? _

I couldn't tell you; I don't remember. I know it was a riddle, the answer corresponding to four of the cards in the deck, with the numbers on the cards being the four digit code we needed to open the lock on the door and leave the room. I read over the riddle once, but I was too panicked to think about it at all. The Technician read it aloud a couple of times, picking up the deck. The Doctor was still standing by at the door, and the Entertainer didn't even glance at the paper. He just started rushing around the room. It took me a little while to realize that he was looking for something, not just running around like a chicken with his head cut off. 

_ What was he looking for? _

**[ Mark ignores me, seemingly too lost in his own thoughts. ]**

The Technician had pulled two cards out of the deck--and four and a nine--by the time the bomb had one minute left. Then there was a loud crack and we all looked up to see the damn Entertainer grinning ear to ear. The Technician yelled at him, saying that he was trying to figure the fucking puzzle out so we could leave, but the Entertainer just laughed. 

Then let's leave, he says, and he's holding a fire extinguisher. He'd used it to break off the entire door handle, rendering the lock useless, the door swinging open on its hinges. There were less than thirty seconds on the bomb now, so I grabbed the Doctor's arm and we rushed through into a long, dark corridor. 

Part of me was worried about the dog getting us, especially now that the other door was broken, and the Technician had thought the same thing, sounding angry when he asked the Entertainer about it. But the Entertainer just laughed again and held up his fire extinguisher, saying that if the dog ran at us he would just hit it too, telling the Technician to stop being angry. That he had just saved our lives. If anything, that just made the Technician even angrier, swearing that he had just solved the riddle. But then there was an explosion behind us, and I think they realized that it wasn't really that important anymore.

_ Where did you go next? _

The hallway led to another blank, wooden door. This room looked pretty normal, pretty harmless. There were knit rugs, overstuffed furniture, and little, expensive-looking antique knick-knacks on the surface of every shelf and tiny table. In the middle was a large, wooden table with a balance scale and another piece of paper. There was nothing immediately life threatening in the room--no bomb, like the last one--so I closed the door, Doctor picking the paper up and beginning to read it. 

_ Another riddle? Do you remember it? _

It was a bunch of gibberish, I remember that. It didn’t make any sense. Half of the words weren’t even words, and the Doctor stumbled through it. He’d just finished reading when a pedestal against the wall was knocked over and an antique vase or some shit crashed to the floor. And it that weird because none of us touched it, and I remembered that pedestal being a good foot away from the wall when we came in. Now it was pressed right up to the ugly floral wallpaper, slowly scooting across the rug. The Technician realized what was happening about the same time I did.

_ What? _

The walls perpendicular to the doors were moving. Closing in on us. We needed to figure out the riddle, fast, because even if we stopped the walls before they crushed us, the doors could be too covered to use and we would be stuck in there anyway.

The Technician ripped the paper from the Doctor’s hands and began reading over it. The Entertainer asked him what he was thinking we had to do, and the Technician told him to shut the fuck up. It took a few moments, the feet of the vintage furniture scraping against the hardwood floor as it advanced towards us, but he then started just yelling objects, pointing to one or the other of the sides of the scale. So we just started grabbing the stuff and placing it on. I have no idea how he figured it out, but when he’d finished, the two ends of the scale were completely even with each other, and there was a echoing click.

The walls stopped. For a second, nothing happened. Then like a hinge, before any of us could react, the floor fell out from under us. I ended up landing on my arm and spraining my wrist. The Doctor hit his head pretty bad, but before I’d even sat up straight the Technician and the Entertainer were arguing again. The Entertainer was accusing the Technician of maybe planning all of this, because he’d been the first to show up here and he was able to solve everything.

_ What do you think about that? _

**[ Mark shrugs. ]** I think he was just a smart guy. Good under pressure, or something. Someone able to think clearly in a life or death situation. Not like me.  **[ He sighs. ]** He was trying to keep us alive.

The Technician declared that he was just trying to help, that survival was our primary objective and at this point we’d all be dead without him. He was right really, but the Entertainer was just in the mood to argue. They were about to start a shouting match, but then fire shot up from the ground a few feet away.

_ Fire? _

Fire.  **[ Mark nods grimly. ]** We’d landed on a metal grate, and it was warm. Fire rose along the edges of the room, giving off light, and a little ways away were four metal objects suspended from the ceiling that no one had bothered to notice. One for each of us.

I recognized the puzzle when I saw it. It was one of those pieces of twisted metal given to kids, and the whole point was to untangle them from each other or whatever, those kinds of toys. There was a key wrapped up in each one; the key to the door at the end of the room. Each of us started fumbling with our own. At uneven intervals there was a loud metal sound, like a hinge unlatching, and a second later flames would flare up through a grate on the floor, tall enough to completely envelop a person. They started around the edges of the room, but steadily got closer. I could feel the heat of the fire through my shoes.

Of course, the Technician got his key free first. The Entertainer began cursing him as he left, and we heard the door latch automatically behind us. When the Doctor figured his puzzle out too, the Entertainer stopped his grumbling. It was just the two of us, and I wasn’t making any progress on my puzzle. My wrist was in so much pain, and I was shaking too badly; my fingers kept fumbling the key, and it would slip and fall back to the starting place. Before too long the Entertainer figured his puzzle out, running for the door. It must not have locked both ways though, because as soon as he was out of the room the Technician stuck his head in and yelled that we needed all four of the keys to progress through the next room, giving some warning that I couldn't hear about trip wires and boxes. I was panicking. 

The fire was only a couple feet away when I gave up. I was the next person to die, and it would hurt like hell. 

_ But… You didn’t-- _

**[ Mark’s expression went stony. ]**

The Technician appeared out of nowhere next to me, shoving his key into my into my hand and pushing me towards the exit. I told him no, that it was too late; nearly the entire room was full of flames. I told him that he’d already done his part, that he was already safe, that this was for me, my fault… But he swore that he could figure it out in time. That saving my life was his prime objective. I could tell he wasn't going to leave, so there wasn't anything else I could do; I ran for the door, and made it through just as fire flared up again. I stood in the hallway with the Entertainer and the Doctor, waiting. He'd done it once, right? He could solve the puzzle again. We just stared at the door in silence, waiting for him to come out.

_ But he didn't come out? _

**[ Mark lowers his head slowly into his hands. He's still for a moment or two, then rubs hard at his closed eyelids with his palms. His eyes are red, slightly irritated, when he lifts his head again. ]**

We heard it a few more times, the heavy, metallic sound of the flames, but no other noise came from the room. Maybe the door was too thick to let any sound though. Maybe he didn't scream. But… I heard the dark laughter, and I knew what must have happened to him. It was bizarre, not to have heard or seen him die. That it just… Was. That he was dead.

_ And then you woke up? _

**[ Mark nodded. ]** Then I woke up. And god, my wrist hurt so badly that for a second I thought I'd broken my arm. The police were already at the door, and I laughed in their faces when I saw them. I couldn't help it; I was so goddamn sick of it all. I asked them what had happened to the Technician, and if they’d found some other impossible part of me at the crime scene--a finger, or a toe--but they hadn’t. 

_ Why were they there? _

They’d found a man, about my age, a technician that worked for Google, burned nearly to ashes in an alleyway not too far away. There was enough of his head to do a dental on him, and that’s how they managed to figure out his identity. But… It takes hours for bone to completely break apart in fire like his had, and the crime was too impossible for me to actually have committed it. That’s what they told me, anyway. Maybe they thought there was something I wasn't telling them. Maybe…  **[ Mark laughs, spreading his arms in a gesture to his surroundings. ]** Maybe they thought I was crazy. But I was connected somehow, and they said they wanted to place me under protection. So I went. 


	5. Part Five - The Entertainer

**[ Mark is sitting on the floor again. His dog is completely in his lap this time, rocking slightly as she gives him nudges to the chest with her head, moving her paw as she does so before replacing it in his open hand. He looks incredibly drowsy, as though the dog is the only thing keeping him conscious. ]**

_ Are you okay? _

They upped the dosage on my sleeping pills. I've been telling them that the dreams were back and they didn't believe me, so I refused to go to sleep. The higher dosage does give me a dreamless sleep through the night, but in the morning it's hard to keep my eyes open.  **[ He gestures to his dog. ]** She's probably keeping me alive right now. 

_ Should I come back at a better time? _

**[ Mark shakes his head. Despite how slow the movement is, I stay in my seat. ]**

Talking will probably help wake me up. I'm just so… Sick of it all. All of it. The dreams have been gone for over two years. Why are they back now? 

**[ He gets up, walks over, and sits heavily in his chair. He looks more exhausted than I've ever seen him. ]**

_ Are you ever curious about the final dream?  _

Curious? About my own death?  **[ He laughs dryly. ]** Of course I am. Everyone is curious about how they're going to go. I just wonder which of my worst fears he'll pick. 

**[ Mark is silent for a long time. He isn't falling asleep, though. He's contemplative. ]**

I wonder if I'll fight. 

_ What?  _

I might not even be given a chance, but sometimes I wonder that if there's a way, if I'd be able to struggle my way out of a situation…  **[ Mark's hand drops off the table. He's reaching for his therapy dog, and she meets his hand with the top of her head. ]** I'm not completely sure that I would try. I can't think of anything that could be worse than this.

**[ The resulting silence is long and heavy. After a couple of minutes Mark gives his head a hard, quick shake. ]**

Where did I leave off last? 

_...the police had offered you protection.  _

Right. That. Protection.  **[ He lets out a fast breath through his nose. ]** They couldn’t help me. They put me up in one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever seen, and I had a few officers with me at all times. Really though, I think they wanted to be able to ask me questions, and they were frustrated that I didn’t know anything about the real world events--it was poking holes in their theory, I think, their idea that I was the killer. 

_ Did you tell them about the dreams again? _

I did. I snapped one day, when the investigator was there. I told her everything. I didn’t try to downplay it like I had the last time I talked about the dreams. I told her everything, and I begged them not to let me sleep. She looked worried. She said I needed to sleep, because if I didn’t I would die. And I mean, she was right, but…  **[ Mark lets out a dry laugh. ]**  Ironic, isn’t it? I think that was the moment she really began thinking I was insane. 

I lasted about a week on half hour naps. I was exhausted constantly, carrying around this underlying sense of dread. It was horrible, being so tired yet so terrified of sleep. I don’t even remember when it finally happened, when my body finally gave up. One minute I was stepping out of the shower, and I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again I was in the forest, in the rain. I stood there for a second, and there was this lump in my throat. I wanted to wake up. I tried; I tried punching myself in the leg, shaking my head, blinking… But I wasn’t leaving. I was stuck in the forest. I couldn’t wake up. Then I heard footsteps behind me, and I ran. I fucking hated every step. 

The longer I ran, the colder the air got. When I broke out of the trees it wasn’t raining anymore; it was snowing. I was coming up on a house, a classic cabin-in-the-woods-looking place, almost like a horror movie set. I even think I laughed a little when I saw it, but to tell you the truth, I was feeling hysterical. 

The Doctor and the Entertainer were both there. The Doctor said hello, and he looked nervous. Without introduction, the Entertainer raised his hand, and I saw why. He was holding a gun.

_ A gun? Where did he get one? _

He grinned at me. He told me that it was thanks to me, and that he’d remembered what I’d said about us all being in a dream. So he’d fallen asleep with the gun.  **[ Mark angles his head down, shaking it in disbelief, but there’s a slight smile on his face. ]** The crazy bastard fell asleep with a loaded gun in his hand. Of course he did. 

_ But… He remembered what you told him. So he knew he was in a dream? _

I guess so. I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe that’s what lead to the dumbass stunt he pulled. Thinking it was all just a dream.

I asked them what was going on, and they said that nothing had happened yet. They’d been sitting, waiting for me to arrive. The Doctor said they’d heard wolves, and birds, and someone screaming, but the Entertainer argued that the screams weren’t human. It was just some other kind of wild animal. He told the Doctor he shouldn’t be so scared; we were in the wilderness, after all. The Doctor was snappy with him, saying that not all of us were stupid enough to bring a gun to bed with them, but he looked really anxious, so the Entertainer didn’t hold it against him. He just laughed. 

We started to explore the house. We found a raccoon in the cabinet under the sink, but that was the only other living creature in the place. There was some stale food, and some stuff in jars that I’m sure wasn’t edible. Lots of bottles of alcohol, most of it whiskey. The Entertainer grabbed a bottle and opened it, but the Doctor drank more of it than the Entertainer did. I didn't touch the stuff.

_ The place was abandoned? _

I guess so. It wasn’t very dirty really, just dusty; there weren’t any cobwebs, and it wasn't grimy. Just empty, like it had recently been abandoned. It was pretty dark too, but the Doctor and I both had our cell phones, so we used the flashlights on them. I hadn’t heard any animal sounds like the other two had. It was just quiet. These places are always so quiet. Finally though, I heard the screams they were talking about.

_ Were they human? _

**[ Mark shakes his head instantly, his answer immediate. ]** No. I could see how the Doctor would think so, but no. They were… Almost human. Like they would have been, but they were just a little bit off. A little bit wrong. 

It was almost predictable at this point; the deep voice came, and again, told us we were dying. The Entertainer yelled back, telling it to try him, brandishing his gun in the air. The Doctor told him to stop threatening God. I asked him if he thought that deep voice was God, but he didn’t answer. So we kept walking. 

We were down in the basement, looking at the fuse box to maybe get some electricity going in the cabin when we heard a crash upstairs. The Doctor was so jumpy. He said we should investigate, then in the next breath told us we should stay down here. The Entertainer and I disregarded him, and the Entertainer said it was probably just that raccoon. But it sounded like a bigger sound than a raccoon could make, so after some consideration we went upstairs to look. There was this huge window in the front room, and a big hole had been blasted in it. Snow was coming in, the wind blowing so fast that it stung our faces.

_ How did the window break?  _

**[ Mark swallows, letting out a breath. ]** At first we had no idea. We were looking around outside, trying to maybe find some wild animal or something. Then the Doctor noticed claw marks that had been dug into the wooden floor, and we realized that whatever the creature was, it was inside now. The Entertainer cocked his gun, the Doctor took a few fast steps away from him, and we went back downstairs. 

The Entertainer froze as he got out onto the landing, and I ran into him. The Doctor ran into me. It was comical; I almost laughed, then I saw what had stopped the Entertainer in his tracks. There was a monster in the downstairs foyer. It was perched on the dusty grand piano in the upper left corner of the room, and it seemed to be looking around, but when it stared straight at us it only lingered for a second before continuing on. I think it was blind. 

We couldn’t just stand there, so after some time the Entertainer began moving. He moved slow, heel-to-toe, trying to keep his footfalls as quiet as possible, and once I could get my legs to move, I followed. The floor was old, wooden, and creaky; one of the floorboards screeched and the creature's head whipped around to stare at us. Its neck was bent unnaturally, turned too far, and the sight of it made my stomach twist. It was staring at me, straight at me, and it screamed. I was frozen. It had a grotesque, almost-human face, its teeth sharp to points, and these wild but clouded eyes. Its entire body was spindly and shriveled, like it had been starved for weeks, and maybe it had, because I could tell by its face that it wanted to eat me. Then it leapt, crazy fast and long and thin, and the Entertainer lifted his gun and fired at it.

_ He killed it? _

Not by a long shot. He should have; he hit it straight in the face, but the thing just got blasted backwards. That gave us all time to move down the steps, and while that put us closer to the door, it also put us closer to the monster. But it was good that we managed to escape the staircase when we did, because we heard more screaming, and two more of the things crashed down over the banister, in the middle of a fight, clawing and biting at each other. The movement and noise was a little distracting, but the gunshot had given our position away pretty well, and the creature leapt at us again.

It came to a stop inches from my face. I grabbed the arms of each of the others, trying to keep them still, and I didn’t let myself breathe. I didn’t let myself blink. The creature’s eyes were roaming over us, but it was obvious up close that it couldn’t see a thing. It began to back up, but before it had even taken a full step the Doctor lost it. He yelled, and did this--  **[ Mark jerks his arms, imitating a shielding gesture over his face. ]** \--and I could tell he was going to try to run. But he wasn’t fast enough; nothing I’ve ever seen moved faster than those things. The monster was on him. The Entertainer shot at it again, this crazy panicked laugh leaving his mouth when his bullet hit the monster in the chest. It was sent sprawling into the other two, and I hoped it would get involved in the fight the other two were having. But it broke them apart instead, and all three of them were watching us now. We just ran for it. We almost made it to the door, but it was my damn fault again.

**[ Mark falls silent, moistening his lips. He swallows slowly, and I lead with a question. ]**

_ What happened? How was it your fault? _

One of them grabbed my shoulder, and ripped it to shreds.  **[ He rolls up his right shirtsleeve, showing off three scars that extend past the exposed skin and up by his collarbone, which is still hidden by his clothes. They were red and raised, but incredibly thin. ]** It hurt like hell. It felt as though I’d been set on fire, and somehow simultaneously submerged in ice, and I wondered if the monsters were somehow poisonous. I almost fell, but the Doctor grabbed my arm and shoved me through the door. He headed after me just as another of them lunged, and the Entertainer fired again, but it wasn’t a direct shot. All it managed to do was distract the monster, but it bought the Doctor enough time to slip through, leaving the Entertainer surrounded. But we kept running. Or, the Doctor did. I was barely on my feet. I told him that we had to go back.

_ Go back? _

To help him! To save him! He’d saved both of our lives, and we were leaving him behind. Granted, there wasn’t much of anything I could do--I couldn’t move my right arm at all--but he would run out of bullets eventually. We couldn’t abandon him like that. The Doctor just kept dragging me along, and he turned to me, and he said…  **[ Mark stops again, letting his gaze fall to the table. He’d been incredibly heated at first, passionate about the man acting so foolishly to save his life. Now he’s still. ]** ...he said that it was better him than us.

There were three more gunshots--some distant laughter while they were happening--then silence, nothing but our feet crunching in the snow. I was waiting for the laughter, knowing we had doomed him. The deep voice came, but it spoke instead.

_ What did it say? _

It said… Hold on. I’ll try to say it like he did.

**[ Mark lowers his voice, but this time when he speaks there’s a strange look in his eyes.]**

**_Interesting…_ **

_ That… That’s all it said? _

**[ The words were foolish, but I want to say something, something to get his eyes to refocus. It works; he blinks, then continues. ]**

I was bleeding all over myself when I woke up. I didn’t feel as weak as I had in the dream though, and the burning sensation had all but gone away, so I pulled myself to my feet, wrapped a towel around my waist, and ran to find someone. I didn’t even need to say anything, the first security guard that saw me running for help. The cuts were deeper than I thought, but they were thin. The investigator came in while her men were checking my hotel room for possible signs of entry, despite me telling her that it was pointless. I knew what had attacked me. She told me they found another body, and I asked her if it had been eaten or something. She said no.

_ No? _

He’d been sliced to ribbons. Thin, precise strips maybe an inch long--as far apart at the cuts on my shoulder--and strewn around the street in a gory mess. There was an empty gun with the body, but there were no signs that it had been used on the victim. I told her that it hadn’t been, and that was when she realized I’d had another dream. So I told her about it. 

She didn’t have much to say when I’d finished talking. She just stood, telling me she wanted to move me somewhere else. Somewhere with more security, including round-the-clock surveillance. I consented. I wanted to see what was happening to me while I slept. At the same time though, I never wanted to sleep again. 


	6. Part Six - The Doctor

**[ Mark is clearly agitated, jumping up from his seat as soon as I open the door. He begins pacing, his dog following his steps across the length of the room, keeping out from under his feet, her eyes trained on his face. ]**

_ Are you okay? _

What?  **[ The word snaps, his tone waspish. His expression softens slightly when he turns around and meets my eyes. ]** No, it’s just… Therapy this morning. They’re saying I’m improving, which is bullshit, but…  **[ He waves his hand dismissively. ]** I was told today that they’re going to call my family. Some of my old friends. See if they want to visit me.

_ Isn’t that good? _

I don’t know.  **[ He crosses his arms, hunching his shoulders as though a chill just passed through the room. ]** I haven’t seen any of them in nearly three years. I don’t know why they’d want to talk to me.

_ They’re your family.  _

**[ He barks out a startlingly sudden laugh, stopping in front of the table. His dog sits, her eyes still on him. ]**

Right. Blood doesn’t keep someone from hating you. 

_ I’m sure they don’t hate you, Mark. Especially if you’re innocent.  _

If.

_...since you’re innocent, I mean. _

No, if is right. I just…  **[ He runs his hands through his hair, his head angled down so it all falls in his face again anyways. He laughs, but this one is a polar opposite of the one only seconds before; it sounds strangely broken. ]** I’m scared.

_ What are you afraid of? _

Them being afraid of me.  **[ Mark sits heavily. He still hasn’t lifted his face. ]** They should be, right? I’m criminally insane. I’ve been convicted of killing six people. That’s fucking terrifying. 

_ Do they know your side of the story? _

I don’t know. And even if they’ve heard it, I don’t know if they believe it. If they believe me. They probably don’t. I wouldn’t. The last time I saw them, I…  **[ He trails off. ]**

_ Which them? Your family, or your friends? _

It’s been a long time for both. I was living at a friend’s house, watching it for him while he was on a vacation overseas. I borrowed money from almost everyone that could lend it to me, but it ran out eventually. I never should have dropped out of college. 

_ Why did you? _

I hated it, that’s why. God, I hated it. I started flunking because I just didn’t care anymore. I wanted to be out there, making a difference, doing… I don’t know, doing something. Something that mattered, not wasting away behind inconsequential English assignments and unsolvable calculus equations. It was all so useless. But my parents… They didn’t really get that. I could’ve been an engineer.  **[ The phrase is hollow, like he’s heard it--and maybe said it--a hundred times over. ]** I tried to hide it at first. I tried to stay at my apartment, but there aren’t many jobs in college towns that pay well. I kept getting sick too, and eventually I had to leave. Crashed at every friend’s place that would let me in. Overstayed my welcomes. Stole stuff I didn’t think they would miss. They noticed most of the time. I used everyone that cared about me, then got arrested for murder. Not the best way to leave things. 

_ I doubt they’re still holding any of that stuff against you.  _

My family offered, though. Both of my parents said I could stay with them, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to accept their help. I didn’t want to feel that useless, that helpless. I think that made them angry, watching me decline something that I so obviously needed. I said… I said some things.

_ That was still a long time ago. I’m sure they’re fine. They still care about you. _

**[ Mark purses his lips like he doesn’t believe me. ]** Well, I wouldn’t. I was terrible.  **[ There’s obviously more he’s done that he isn’t saying. I don’t press him. ]**

_ Do you remember where we left off last? _

The Entertainer, right?  **[ Mark swallows. He finally looks up, and he looks drained. There’s a slightly panicked look in his eyes, but his voice is steady. ]** The Entertainer, and the gun, and the scars on my shoulder. The surveillance. 

_ Yes.  _

**[ Mark nods, settling himself into his chair.]** I think the investigator was starting to believe me. Maybe not about all of it, but about some. They humored me at least, agreeing to keep me awake, to only let me sleep for short intervals at a time. If I ever dozed off, a guard watching the security cameras in my new hotel room would come in and shake me awake after twenty minutes or so, before REM sleep could kick in. They even tried to find the Doctor at my request, maybe thinking they could keep him safe, but they didn’t have any luck. I didn’t know what he actually looked like, and the dreams were so strange that I wouldn’t blame him for lying if the police showed up asking about it. 

I stayed awake for nearly three weeks, though it honestly felt like hell on earth. I might have hallucinated a couple of times. It was exhausting, but I told myself that I wasn’t doing this for me. Someone else’s life was depending on me not giving up. I fought so hard, but we both know that I slipped up in the end. 

_ What happened?  _

I was being moved. Taken in for questioning, or a new dental impression, or a check up on my shoulder... I don’t remember what it was for. I don’t remember much of anything from that month of my life. But I’d been picked up by a guy that wasn’t really a part of the special force for my case, so while he might have gotten the message that I shouldn’t be allowed to fall asleep, I don’t think he knew how serious it was. He even remarked about how exhausted I looked. I think that I dozed off, and he just let me go.  **[ Mark’s upper body tenses then relaxes again, as though he’s gotten angry about that fact so many times already that he just doesn’t have the strength to do it anymore. ]** And just like that, I was in the forest.

It was all the same. It was raining, I was running, six hands at my back this time. I came up to a hospital, and the Doctor greeted me inside. That would seem fitting, a doctor in a hospital, but he looked too plain for the place, like he was wearing a Halloween costume or something. The hospital was white and clean to the point of insanity; anything that could shine did, and with such bright overhead lights it was nearly blinding when I stepped in from the dark storm outside.

The Doctor looked nervous. I think he knew what was happening, because he was quiet and didn’t seem surprised at all to see me. He looked down the white hallway before us, pointing, telling me we should to try and find an exit. No questions, no introduction. I turned to open the door I’d just come in from instead, but it was gone, a blank wall in its place. So I agreed, and we started walking. 

The hospital must have been enormous, because we walked forever. We stayed quiet, and I had to squint whenever I looked around because of how bright it was. The Doctor was really tense. He moved stiffly, and jumping at nothing and glancing around. I don’t know what was spooking him. Sure, I was scared too, but there was never anything there. We left no shadows, and there was no noise aside from our footsteps. It was pretty eerie, actually. It seemed as though no one else was in the building, and after walking for awhile, I was beginning to doubt that there was even anyone else in the world.

My feet started to ache. We turned a corner and the Doctor jumped a foot in the air, throwing his arm out in front of me. I ran straight into it and fell down. It scared the shit out of me, and I expected to see a monster down the hallway, but nothing was there. It was just a trail of footprints, bright red and shiningly wet, leaving one of the rooms and heading off, turning out of sight. 

I got up, and I had to shake the Doctor’s shoulders to get his attention. He was so freaked out that he didn’t even want to move, but I insisted that we keep walking. He kept a tight grip on my shirtsleeve, but eventually he came with me.

We planned on not following the footsteps, because that seemed incredibly stupid, but the hospital seemed to know our plan,because all of the branching hallways disappeared. The only way to go was after the trail of blood, and the Doctor was constantly five steps away from a heart attack, but we kept walking. 

Another turn, and there was something in that hallway too. The Doctor didn’t knock me on my ass this time, but that’s because I had to jump him and cover his mouth to keep him from screaming. The overhead lights ahead had gone out. A few of them were flickering weakly, and thanks to that we could see the silhouette of a figure ahead. It was a petite woman in a nurse’s costume; an actual costume, not the proper outfit, with the tiny white dress, and the little hat with a red cross on it. She had a surgical mask on, covering the entire bottom half of her face, and her eyes were nearly completely rolled back, the irises barely visible under her top eyelids. She had a staple gun in one hand, and was holding something strange in her other hand, which I’ve since learned was a needle holder, and it was holding a long, curved surgical needle. She was covered in blood from the waist down, her dress so saturated that it was dripping onto the floor. She was the one was leaving the footprints.

She was facing us, but she hadn’t seen us yet. Honestly, I’m not sure if she could see at all, but I guess she hadn’t heard us either. I didn’t know what to do; all of my energy was focused on keeping the Doctor from yelling or running off. When I thought it would be okay to move my hand I did, but he started whimpering almost immediately, asking me what the hell she was, what the hell we were supposed to do, and…  **[ He stops, swallowing hard. ]** He called me Mark. None of the others had ever said my name before, or even indicated that I had one. 

_ Because the others didn’t have names. _

Right. I’d thought about it before, but I never had a silly outfit on like the others, so I didn’t know what persona they could even perceive me as. But he called me Mark. He knew my name.

Either way, that did it. Her head snapped towards us, her eyes rolling back completely. I grabbed the Doctor’s arm to turn and bolt, but the hallway behind us had sealed off just like the door had. But I wasn’t letting us stay here, so I just hoped to god that she was blind and ran straight in her direction, the Doctor stumbling along behind me. 

_ Was she blind? _

I don’t know. I think so. She lashed out at us as we passed, swiping at the Doctor with her needle and shooting at me with her staple gun, but she didn’t really get either of us. All the Doctor got was a scratch and her shot missed me completely, hitting the wall behind my head. Once we were clear of her the Doctor told me I was insane, and we kept running. The hallways were dark now, the only light coming from the top and bottom of locked doors on the sides of the hallway. She was following after us, making these guttural screaming noises.  **[ He rubs his throat, frowning. ]** It hurts just to think about it.

The Doctor kept fussing over his cut, talking about how unsterilized the needle had to be and how he was going to get all of these blood infections, but I told him to shut up. He wasn’t usually the one who complained about things when we were in danger, but maybe he was trying to calm himself down.

Before too long, we came across more nurses. They were both dark skinned women, and one of them had huge curly hair coming up and around her tiny white hat. Their eyes were already rolled back and they moved at the same time, swaying slightly on the spot as they looked at us. I didn’t think we could get past them both but the Doctor didn’t even slow down, dashing past. He ignored his cuts this time, so I couldn’t help but ask what he was doing. He just said he was doing what I was; trying to get us out of here.

We passed a few different groups of them, getting a little more cut up each time. My entire body stung, but we couldn’t slow down. There was a mob of them behind us now, and we were running so fast we probably couldn’t have stopped even if we wanted to. We nearly slammed into the wall when a fork came up in the hallway; I hit my shoulder when we turned the corner.

_ Which way did the two of you go? _

We picked right. I was in front, so really it was me. I don’t know why I turned that way, It was just a split decision. I didn’t think it would be consequential.

_ What do you mean? _

**[ Mark’s face is stony and he’s staring straight ahead, but his eyes aren’t focused on anything. He grimaces before clearing his throat. ]**

I picked the wrong direction. The exit was the other way, and I saw it when I glanced back. We hit a dead end, with a tiny examination room branching off of it. That door was open, unlike all of the other hallway doors we’d passed, so we ran in and slammed it behind us, and instantly we were trapped.The only way out was through the door we’d come in from, and it was completely surrounded. The Doctor was already planning what to do, already talking fast. But he was talking crazy.

_ A plan to escape? Were there any weapons in the room you could use? _

Just a fire extinguisher. The Doctor yanked it off the wall and gave it to me, and told me that he was going to go out, cause a distraction, and lure the nurses to the door while I made an escape. I couldn’t let him do that, and I told him so. The Entertainer and the Technician had already given their lives for me; I couldn’t let the Doctor do the same thing. We were wrestling over the fire extinguisher when the Doctor just stopped and gave me this look. He asked me if I really didn’t know.

_ Didn’t know what? _

That was my question too. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he told me about the voice, the deep voice that always told us we were going to die. I was always the last to arrive during dreams, and ever since the Newscaster had died, apparently the deep voice had been telling them that I had to live. That if I made it through the night alive, all of them would wake up too. The Doctor told me I had to make it through this, so he could wake up. 

_ He remembered all of the dreams? _

Yeah. He remembered them. And that deep voiced fucker had been making the rest of them die for me. It was infuriating. I wanted to throw something, I… I wanted to throw up. But the Doctor just shoved the fire extinguisher in my arms while I was frozen, opened the exam room door, and ran out into the hallway, screaming curses at the nurses as they passed. I didn’t really have much more of a choice after that. I ran to the exit, and made it outside. It was daytime, and there was a man standing in a suit about a hundred yards ahead. He didn’t get any closer the more I ran towards him, and I couldn’t make out his face. Something about it was blurry; he looked more like a hologram than an actual, physical presence. But he started laughing, and it was that same laugh I’d heard every time, at the end of the dreams. It meant the Doctor was dead, and I expected the dream to end. But he spoke first.

_ What did he say? _

He sounded so damn amused. He just told me…  **[ Mark’s voice deepens again, his muscles falling slightly slack. For a second, his eyes seem blurred. ]** **_Congratulations. You killed him. And it’ll be your turn soon._ ** **[ He blinks. ]** Then… Then I woke up. We’d made it to the police station, and I was laying out across the back seat, the back door open. The man that had driven me was standing over me, as well as the investigator and a few of her goons. They were all slack jawed. I felt winded and sore, and there were cuts all over my arms and face. I tried to sit up, but before anyone said anything a woman ran in, saying that a body had been found and it looked like it would be part of this case. All but the driver left.

_ It was the Doctor, wasn’t it? _

**[ Mark nods. He looks as though he’s going to be sick. ]** He was… Stitched and stapled, folded into himself in an incredibly tiny ball. His neck had been broken so that his chin could be sewed to his back. Everything was broken, and bent. He hadn’t been dead long. 

**[ He falls silent. The dog begins to whine, pawing at him for attention. Mark begins to pet her, giving his head a shake before continuing. ]**

I had a.. A bit of a mental break, after that. The investigation team was finally taking me seriously. They told the press it was me, because if they didn't have a culprit they couldn't move on. They brought me here, saying it was for my own safety, and haven’t allowed me to dream since. They think they’re saving my life, but…  **[ His lip curls, and he bites it, hard. ]** It’s like I can feel him, sense his presence. He’s come back for me. It’s really only a matter of time now.

**[ He’s quiet. A solid six minutes pass before I decide to ask him a question. ]**

_ Remember that recorder I gave you? _

**[ Mark nods instantly. ]**

_ Have you been using it? _

**[ He nods again. ]** Every night.

_ Could I borrow it? I’d like to transcribe whatever it is you’ve said into it so far.  _

**[ He frowns, thinking it over. ]** You can’t have it today. I need it for tonight. But stop by early tomorrow, and I can lend it to you. I’ll need it back, though. 

_ Of course.  _

**[ The familiar nurses come into the room, one of them laying a hand on Mark’s shoulder, the other holding a tray with food and pills. There are more pills there than there had been the first day I’d spoken to Mark. It feels odd as he excuses himself from the room, almost as though this was the first time we’d spoken to each other. Somehow, it also feels like the last. ]**


	7. Part Seven - The Survivor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note - there are mentions of suicide in this bit, spoken about indirectly, and none of the things said about it by the character (not gonna say who, spoiler) reflect my own personal views. That being said, big thank you to everyone who read this story! I hope you enjoy this last part!

**[ I go down to the institution as early as I can, hoping to get there as soon as it opens. My arrival is expected, a nurse taking me from the front desk and leading me through a number of quiet hallways. She tells me in a hushed voice that Mark just now got to sleep--that he had been difficult through the night--so they want the medication to take him for a couple of hours before I can have the recorder. They can’t take it from him, she says. He’ll know, and he’ll wake up.**

**I don’t argue, wondering if I should request that they call me and go back home. But I want to see Mark’s room first, telling her I understand, following her all the way to the end of the hallway. Mark’s door has a window on it, and I look inside.**

**There’s a desk, a bed, and a small television, a door to the left looking like it leads off to a small bathroom. Mark’s laying down, his body still, but even in rest his face doesn’t look relaxed. His right hand is gripped so tightly around the recorder that his knuckles are bone white. His dog is resting comfortably against his chest but she is awake, unmoving, her eyes on his face. I watch them for a few moments before noticing something. ]**

_Excuse me… He’s talking._

**[ The nurse looks at me in confusion, and I point in through the window. ]** _His lips are moving. He’s saying something._

**[ Her eyes go wide, and she begins to run. I follow her through a door to a room with a multitude of security cameras, and she doesn’t try to stop me. She asks for audio and visuals on Fischbach’s room, the man behind the desk pulling up three screens. One of them is a view of the hallway outside Mark’s door, the other two showing the inside of his room from different angles. At first the audio is nothing but indistinct mumbling. Then there’s a horrible jarring screech, and his voice comes through, loud and clear and panicked. I take out my own recorder quickly. ]**

\--in this fucking place! No! Wake me up! Wake me up now!

**[ There are the sounds of a thunderstorm all around him, rain hitting hard against leaves that are far overhead. The audio coming through isn’t from Mark’s room; it sounds like he's in the middle of a forest.**

**The nurse, her face completely white, runs from the room while she fumbles with the keys on her lanyard. I watch in the security camera as she makes it to Mark’s room and goes to unlock the door, but the key snaps at the neck, stuck inside of the door handle. She pounds at the door, perhaps trying to wake Mark, but only succeeds in getting Mark’s dog to hop off him to investigate. Mark remains unmoving. ]**

Fuck, fuck, they’re here. **[ Mark’s breathing becomes labored; he’s running. ]** I still have the recorder. I thought holding onto it might work, thank god. I… I’m running through the woods. It’s raining. They’re chasing me, the things that have always chased me before. I’m going to turn and look at them this time. This is my my last chance. I don’t have anything to lose now, so if they try to kill me, then that’s it. There's a beach ahead, a few feet after the trees stop. I'm stopping at the edge of the woods, and I'm going to look. I need to see what they are.

**[ As soon as the heavy footfalls stop, so does the rain. Between Mark’s heaving breaths, something can be heard in the distance, sounding almost like crashing waves. Mark curses. ]**

They stopped. They won’t leave the woods. I can barely see them, but… **[ He gasps. ]** It’s them. The Newscaster, and the Entertainer, and… All of them. They don’t look right--fuck, their eyes are black--but it’s them. They look sad, and, and scared. Oh god. **[ His next words are muffled. ]** They weren’t trying to kill me. They were trying to stop me. To warn me.

**_And you killed them all._ **

**[ The voice is chilling. I recognize it from the times I’d heard it from Mark’s mouth, but it’s different. It resonates in an echo, ripples appearing in the coffee mug on the security guard’s desk. ]**

No. I didn't do anything wrong; you fucking killed them!

**[ The sounds of the ocean are suddenly everywhere, and it seems as though Mark gets water in his mouth, choking and spluttering for a moment. In his room his body convulses slightly, a weak imitation of the movement. His dog begins to nudge at his face with her nose. ]**

**_Do not dare to try and pin this on me. You wanted me. You asked for this._ **

I didn’t fucking want any of this! Put me back. My feet can’t touch the ground. Please, please.

**_Don’t you want this? Don’t you want to drown?_ **

No! Who the hell are you, dressed in fancy fucking clothes, and--

**[ The recorder makes a small noise when it's submerged in water, the voices cutting out, but when it resurfaces it doesn't seem to have been damaged, the clarity unaffected. Mark is in the ocean, struggling to keep his head above water. ]**

**_You asked for this Mark. Don’t pretend. Don’t lie to me._ **

What the fuck--

**_You dropped out of school. Your grades were so abysmal when you left that by the time you realized your actions were an aberration, the institution wouldn’t take you back. You couldn’t keep a job. You refused any assistance that made you feel weak. And I heard you, Mark. Calling to me._ **

I have no--I don’t--

**[ Mark gags, coughing, and in the security camera water comes from his mouth. His dog rises on her hind legs, resting her front paws on his chest and whining louder. ]**

Why? Why do you--and the rest of them, all of them--who are you? Why do you look like me?

**_I saw, after a short while, that you wouldn’t come to me on your own. I wanted you to, so desperately, but you were too afraid. Too much of a coward. I knew I had to break you down before you would get over yourself and give in. So I stripped you of yourself, piece by piece._ **

**_The first was easiest. An Author; a man who creates and controls his own world. He understands himself, and what’s happening around him. It was near comical, how easy it was to take that from you. You were instantly lost, spiralling and confused. Financial stability was next, though that too was already all but gone. It was your youthfulness, your innocence for life, when I really got under your skin._ **

The Newscaster.

**[ Despite being so panicked, Mark's voice is faint with horror. There's a dark chuckle, sounding incredibly close. ]**

**_Yes. You nearly came crawling back to me then; I remember. But I was having fun now. I didn’t want it to end. I didn't want you to perish quite so quickly._ **

**[ Mark chokes up more water, and his dog barks, beginning to scratch at his chest. ]**

You told them to die for me.

**_They didn’t have to believe me, but they did. It was quite fortunate; you would have been gone so fast otherwise; you are so weak. I haven’t had fun like this in years._ **

Fuck you.

**_Language._ **

**[ The recorder is submerged. There’s a long moment of silence, then Mark lets out a shuddering gasp, water spilling down his front on the bed. His dog begins barking more. ]**

**_I took your ability to rationalize and solve problems. You were such a mess after that, you accepted police protection. Did you think the police could help you? That they could save you from this?_ **

**[ There's a guttural sound, somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Waves crash over the recorder again. ]**

**_I took your desire to entertain, your desire to be loved. By the time that troublesome want was diminished, I knew the last piece had also gone. I’d seen it die right in front of me, without having to do anything. You tried to cling to it so desperately, but you are a selfish man, Mark. So to punish you, I dragged it out anyway. I let your wrist and your shoulder heal. I let some time pass before I took the thing you most value about yourself._ **

Just tell me. What was it?

 **_I thought a doctor would be a fitting figure. Your ability to care for others._ **

**[ There are people running down the hallway towards Mark’s room, led by the nurse with the broken key. They have power tools with them, ready to break down the door. Inside, the dog continues to bark, pouncing on Mark’s chest and nudging his head. ]**

**_But then you had a mental snap, and I was worried I’d broken you. That I’d gone too far. But I wanted you to be conscious for this, more aware of yourself. I nearly gave up. But then something wonderful happened. They gave you something that reinvigorated you. I was so lucky._ **

If you touch my fucking dog--

**[ The recorder is submerged again, and Mark is choking and gasping on the bed. He’s under for almost too long, then he wheezes in a breath. His dog is jumping up on his bed, running around him anxiously and whining loudly, but he stays asleep. ]**

**_Oh, Mark. So, so selfish. So many people had to die for you, and you’re worried about your dog?_ **

I didn’t do this. This was you. This was your fault.

 **_Maybe._ ** **[ The deep voice laughs. ]** **_But if I didn’t, if I’d just sat back and let you get back on your feet, then what would be the point of my existence? This was fun, Mark, don't you agree? but I’ve grown tired of you now. It’s time._ ** **[ There's a long pause, the crashing of the waves seeming to grow louder and louder. ]**

**_Drown._ **

**[ Mark is submerged, spitting up water almost immediately. His door is broken down in a crash, with two nurses, a doctor, and the head investigator all bursting in, trying to get to Mark around his frantic service dog. The doctor shouts that he’s drowning, and through the recorder only the sounds of the ocean can be heard, deep splashing and rushing currents. Water spills from Mark’s mouth as the nurses pull him upright, his body shaking and jerking. It takes four minutes of fighting and a full consequential minute of CPR before Mark is declared dead. Everyone stands in silence as his dog crawls over his drenched lap, nudging him and howling. The recorder in Mark’s hand is emitting the faint sound of static. I turn to leave the room, when I hear the voice again. ]**

**_Congratulations. It looks as though you’ve finally found me. But unless I’m mistaken, it appears that I’ve won. Your turn._ **

**[ A sudden, searing pain in my right eye has me stumbling and clutching at the security desk. The smell of copper fills my senses, strong and almost overpowering, and my nose begins to bleed. ]**


End file.
